“How do you do it?” (…)
“Do what?” he asked. (…)
“How do you look at me like… like I’m everything?”
(…) “Because you are.”
“Romeo.” I sighed.
“Rimmel,” he replied. “Don’t forget.”
“Don’t forget this moment. Don’t forget the absolute truth in the way you feel right now. I love you and I’m not going to stop.”
Don’t call me that.” She looked down.
I tipped her face back up. “What?”
Shit. I called her baby?
“Why not?” I asked. I was supposed to tell her she’d been hearing things. That grief was making her cuckoo.
“Because I like it.”
And she was always falling over. Her clothes looked like sacks, she freaking snorted when she laughed, and her hair…
She is beautiful.
The thought came out of nowhere and shocked me into next week.
I shook my head. I couldn’t really understand. She wasn’t beautiful.
But she is.
She lifted her hair up off her face and the room literally stopped. It was like there was a sudden vacuum sucking me in until the only thing I could see was her.